At my Sword's End
by LunaRoseWish
Summary: Shiro stared at the tip of the sword as he fell to his knees, "You don't have to do this." Tears stung the vassal's eyes. He breathed deeply, aiming the sword to the boy's throat, "I wish that were true." (AU taking place around episodes 6-7 where Kuroh has decided that Shiro must die)


Rain poured down mercilessly from the dark night sky stretched over the pitch black stadium, near the outskirts of Shizume City. The endless arrays of bleachers towered over the three people shadowed by the lack of light, giving the abandoned stadium and eerie and daunting atmosphere. A feeling of dread and regret hung heavily in the air around them.

Kuroh Yatogami, vassal of the seventh king, stood across from Yashiro Isana and his strain partner, Neko, who stood, hostile, at the young boy's side. Yashiro brought his glaringly red umbrella over his eyes in shame, hoping that neither of his companions noticed the tears streaming down his face, indistinguishable from the rain that soaked through his clothes. Neko glanced over at her master in concern, her body shaking from the chilly air, and the anticipation and anxiety of the situation.

"Shiro?" She whined, clutching the trembling boy's arm tighter.

Moments later, a hand came to rest unsteadily on her head. She glanced at Yashiro in surprise.

"It's alright Neko. Thank you, for everything." He murmured, low and gentle.

"Huh? Why—why are you talking like that Shiro? Come on, it's cold, let's go home!" Her voice cracked with desperation.

If Shiro had heard her, he made no indication of such. He only stared blankly ahead, occasionally letting his warm amber eyes betray him of his emotions. Neko caught glimpses of regret, confusion, disbelief, betrayal, grief…

"You're right Kuroh, I don't even believe myself anymore. I can't tell you for sure that the person you know as Yashiro Isana even exists." He fell silent for a moment, the only noise escaping him was a huff that sounded half like a disappointed laugh. "So, what do you think? Are you gonna kill me now?"

A heavy silence fell over the group of three, and for a moment, Neko felt the weight in her chest lift, hindered only by her underlying fear and anxiety. After a long while, they heard a shuddering gasp come from the dark haired man before them.

"Kuroske?" Neko whimpered, her voice dying in her throat.

The swordsman took a few deep breaths, then straightened his posture and placed a steady hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Yashiro Isana, I offer my deepest apologies. I had hoped that we could resolve this matter without violence, but I'm afraid that the crimes you've committed are far too grave." He gave them a moment to register the insinuation of that statement before clarifying it for himself. "So yes, as my master's dying request, I must take your life."

Yashiro only smiled back at him, letting a few thick tears roll down his cheeks and blend with the rain now soaking through his clothes, as he'd lowered his umbrella. He looked at Kuroh, and with sadness glimmering in his eyes, murmured only one word.

"Please?"

Kuroh looked at the red parasol in the boy's hands, and gave a curt nod, watching as the silver haired man turned to the beautiful strain girl at his side.

"Neko," he tried to force a note of optimism into his voice, but to no avail. It instead came out cracked and broken. "I'm sorry, for having to put you through this, but I—"

"So why do it then? Shiro _please_, let's get out of here! We can go home…" Her voice rose to a wail, only dying down to a shaky whisper as she choked out the last words.

"I can't. Neko, please understand. Regardless of who I was in the past, or what I did, I can't help but feel like the 'me' in the present should take responsibility." He leaned forward, patting the young girl's head and smiling sadly when she gave a small whimper. "I have to do this. But before I do, there's something you must do for me."

"Anything!" She looked up at her master—no, her _friend_ with tear filled eyes.

Yashiro hesitated for a moment, then closed his eyes and nodded in finality.

"Please take care of this for me."

He held the folded, red parasol out to her, and with trembling fingers, she took it, clutching it to her chest as if it were her lifeline.

"Of course I will." She sobbed, hugging the item tighter.

"Thank you." He muttered darkly, turning away so he could avoid the look of despair in those dual colored eyes.

"It's time." Kuroh called out to him, his voice grim and unwavering.

"Yes, please take care of it Kuroh. But if you can...you know...I don't wanna be in pain…"

"I understand," the swordsman dipped his head in acknowledgement of the request. "I will do my best."

He slowly, carefully drew the sword, and the sound of scraping metal made Neko cringe. Finally, the blade was free from its holding, and it whistled through the air as it was quickly brought to its master's side. As he pointed the blade to the boy in front of him, and his victim braced his body for the attack, he felt his hands go weak, and his reliable saber suddenly felt much heavier in his hands. It wasn't the act that bothered him. Kuroh had killed for the sake of his master many times before. It was a ritual he had, unfortunately, become very familiar with. No, it was the boy standing in front of him, with gleaming silver hair, and sad amber eyes, which were once filled with such unexplainable hope and joy.

'_When did I come to care for the boy? He is a murderer, I've known from the beginning. I have never believed his story, so why? Why does my sword now betray me? Why do I feel as if I can't hold its weight?'_

Kuroh squeezed his eyes shut, mulling over the words and emotions swirling viciously inside him. Could he really kill this ray of sun? Who was this boy, really? Why was he so drawn to him?

"Kuroh…please, don't be—"

"Quiet! I need not take advice from you, murderer!" He snapped, cutting the softer voice off with brutal force.

"Kuroh…" He sounded hurt, stung, perhaps betrayed.

The vassal held onto the adrenaline and the loathing surging through his body, in hopes that it would kill his doubts, but as he watched the tip of his blade waver in front of him, he knew he was at a loss.

"Yashiro...Shiro...I can't...I can't do it." He whispered, his voice thick with disbelief, as if his own words shocked him.

"I know. But Kuroh, I…" Shiro's voice trailed off until it was nothing but a low, confused murmur. He was unable to find the words to convince the man in front of him to finish what he'd promised when they'd met.

"No. That's enough, Yashiro Isana. I will no longer bind myself to you. Go, and do as you wish, but know that not everyone will be as merciful as I am. You will soon be dead at the hands of the red king."

As the final words left his mouth, they tasted bitter, and the swordsman felt a small stab of hurt inside him as he contemplated the idea. He shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head ever slightly to rid himself of the confusion. Kuroh turned to leave, prepared to abandon the two he had come to see as his...acquaintances, when he was suddenly blinded by a brilliantly bright light. After recovering from the initial shock, he looked around to see that the stadium lights had been turned on, and now bathed the field in silver-white light. A loud, commanding voice resonated through the stadium, seemingly coming from all around them.

"Listen up Yashiro Isana and his accomplices! This area is now surrounded by Scepter 4 and its officers. We ask that you surrender without a fight, or we will be forced to use more drastic measures."

With a loud click, the voice was cut off, only for the screeching sound of helicopters to take its place. The lights were shut off, and shadows once again engulfed the stadium. After letting his eyes adjust to the lack of light, Kuroh realized that they were surrounded by the members of the blue clan, Scepter 4, all of which had their weapons pointed at them, ready for attack. A woman with pale blonde hair approached them, slowly and cautiously, with a look of pure determination painted across her face : Awashima Seri, Scepter 4's second in command. Beside her was a tall, dark haired man, surrounded by an aura of spite and disinterest. His grey-blue eyes were shadowed behind thick glasses, and his hand rested lightly on the hilt of the sword at his hip : Fushimi Saruhiko, Scepter 4's vanguard.

"The strain girl, the murderer, and the Black Dog." Fushimi muttered with a click of his tongue.

"Yes," murmured Seri, who still stood at his side, before moving to stand in front of the three. "You all are under arrest for murder and accessory to murder, as well as resisting arrest. Do you have any complaints?"

A hesitant silence fell over the group before a quiet, yet solid voice spoke up, and cut through the awkward quietness.

"I do."

"Kuroh?" Shiro whispered from behind where the swordsman had stepped in front of him.

"Speak then." Awashima ordered, her voice clipped with irritation.

Kuroh seemed taken aback for a moment, but soon regained his composure, and began with a slightly uncertain voice.

"Of course. My master, Ichigen Miwa, the late seventh king, sent me to investigate this man, the future colorless king. I was ordered to slay him shall my judgement find him to be unjust."

"I see, so that is your reasoning for following this boy? What is your judgment then, Kuroh Yatogami?"

A split second went by, but before anyone could object, Kuroh had already spoken, his voice choked and broken.

"Guilty."

A second or two went by in silence before the blue vanguard broke it.

"Kill him then." Fushimi spoke darkly.

"E—Excuse me?" Kuroh stuttered, shocked by the words of the man who'd challenged him.

Fushimi sighed, then stepped forward to stand face to face with Kuroh.

"If you think the guy's guilty, then. kill. him. Right here, right now."

The Black Dog stepped back, shocked, and unable to find a reason to argue with the blue clansman's request.

"I—well, of course, I—"

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?!" Neko suddenly shouted, voice high pitched with fear. Her eyes were fixed on the blue's Lieutenant, pleading.

"No," Awashima replied calmly and firmly. "If that is what Fushimi thinks should be done, then so be it." She paused, looking straight at Kuroh with icy blue eyes. "Well? Take care of it then, Kuroh Yatogami."

With one final glance over his shoulder at Neko and Shiro, he gave in with a sigh. Something glimmering in the swordsman's eyes as they focused on the cat girl gave them both hope, especially when Neko gave an enthusiastic nod and broke out in a stunning grin. Hoping that the blue clansmen wouldn't notice Neko's over excitedness, Kuroh placed his hand on the hilt of his sword one more time, and drew it from its sheath effortlessly. He made sure to keep the blues behind him, as to avoid their searching and expectant gazes. Bringing the sword out in front of him, he pointed it towards Shiro, and waited a moment, as if to seem hesitant, or perhaps to appear like he was bracing himself for the act. In truth, after a moment or two of silence, save for the muttering of the Scepter 4 officers behind him, he gave a quick, curt nod to Neko, and within seconds, a pink aura exploded around them.

Neko's loud, "meow!" echoed over the illusionary field, bathed in pale pink fog.

Joyous, mocking laughter rang out in the misty battlefield.

"Shiro," Kuroh called out into the endless smog. "get out of here! Your only chance is now, so go quickly! We don't have much time."

"It's not over!" A voice followed shortly after, thick with malice and dark with spite.

"Captain!" A feminine, yet commanding voice resonated through the illusionary world just as the darker voice had silenced.

Suddenly, the mirage dissipated, replaced by a vibrant, blue glow. Once everything had cleared, Kuroh looked around to see Neko and Shiro standing off to the side, both looking shocked and afraid, as well as Awashima and Fushimi of Scepter 4, now standing face to face with him, and joined by their king, Reisi Munakata, who appeared almost smug, as if he had cleverly cornered them as his helpless prey.

"Neko!" Kuroh shouted, praying that the strain girl would get the message in his tone, and hide the three of them in her illusions once again.

However, he was interrupted by the feminine voice from before, belonging to Awashima Seri, he realized, as she stepped forward threateningly, the hilt of her sword clutched tightly in her right hand.

"No more tricks, Kuroh Yatogami." She scolded him, her voice clipped with irritation.

"I see, so you take us for fools, is that it?" A deep, booming voice made Kuroh flinch, and too late he realized just how close the entirety of Scepter 4's officers had closed in on him.

Closest of all was the blue king, who towered menacingly over the young swordsman in their close proximity. Before Kuroh could think of a rebuttal, the king continued on, his glasses glinting mischievously in the now dimming, blue glow.

"That was a very clever trick you attempted Black Dog," his tone rose to an almost annoyingly cheerful pitch. "I'm impressed."

"I'm not here to impress you," he spat back, all too soon forgetting that he was speaking to a king. "It wasn't a stage trick."

"Of course not," the taller man smiled, leaning closer to him, which made his skin prickle, and his hands falter when they reached for the katana he'd put away. "You were trying to save your friends, right? How valiant of you."

"They're not my friends." He retorted, though it sounded weak and childish in comparison to the blue king's sly taunts.

A low, breathy laugh slipped past the king's lips as he pulled away from the shorter man and straightened his posture, turning back towards his clan.

"Miss Awashima, please restrain the girl. And you Fushimi," he glanced sideways at his vanguard, and Kuroh began to feel a sense of dread wash over him, like waves lapping greedily at his limbs, weighing them down. "please oversee this execution."

Fushimi grinned wickedly, and the rare and chilling sight left Kuroh feeling cold and drowning in apprehension.

"My pleasure, sir." He responded, a sickening note of satisfaction creeping into his breathy voice.

"Shiro." He gasped quietly to himself, almost disgusted by the panic in his voice as he whipped around to stare at the boy and his strain partner in dismay.

His breath hitched when he heard Neko's cries of pain, and her desperate struggle as she was being detained by the blue's Lieutenant. His gaze quickly found her in the crowd and were soon filled with pity at the sight of her. The usually joyful and almost annoyingly loud and bright girl was now a wet, screaming mess. Kuroh took a decisive step forward, ideas of rebellion whipping in his mind, just barely drowning out Neko's desperate pleading.

'_How pathetic,' _he scolded himself. '_that this boy has crawled into my heart so deeply that I am willing to rebel for him. I have never been so disloyal a servant before.'_

He paused, his footsteps falling heavy, and then silent, save for the pattering of rain against his shoes.

'_You would be disappointed in me, Master Ichigen…'_

Kuroh's mind remained still on that thought, and he once again found his hand hesitant and shaking on the hilt of his once reliable blade. Without even realizing it, his hand had dropped down limply to his side, and a sick feeling swirled in his stomach. He felt utterly guilty and incompetent in a way he had never felt before.

"I don't...want this...Master Ichigen...I can't…" Kuroh choked out between sobs.

The sounds around him blurred into a dull ring in his ears, which was soon enough replaced with the clear and distinct voice of his brother in training; his superior, and himself.

"_Yukari! Yukari!"_

"_What is it my dear Kuroh? There's no need to be so loud."_

"_Yukari, listen! I've got a question."_

"_Oh? Ask away then, Kuroh."_

"_We're Master Ichigen's students right? We're supposed to protect him, right?...Yukari, what are we to him?"_

He vividly remembered the warm, kind smile that had spread over his senior's painted face.

"_You see Kuroh, Master Miwa is our king. We are his loyal vassals. We must protect and serve him with every bit of our souls. He is our guiding light." He paused, looking at Kuroh with the smallest bit of pity. "Alas, you are much too young to understand such a thing. Enjoy childhood for now, my dearest Kuroh. You will serve our master, Ichigen someday, but that is not today."_

"_You're wrong!" Kuroh retorted, his voice filled with childish determination. "I am a vassal of the Seventh King, Ichigen Miwa! I will serve him until I die!"_

He was snapped back to the present by the sound of an ear splitting yowl.

"Shiro! Shiro! Run! You've got to get away from here, Shiro!" Neko wailed, her pleas ending in sobs as she pulled aggressively against the blue lieutenant who held her back, which, by the looks of her, was not an easy task.

"Neko!" Shiro yelled back, his voice shrill with panic and concern.

The strain girl's eyes widened, and seemed to focus on something above the boy's head.

"Shiro!"

Her warning came too late, and Shiro was brought to his knees by the force of Fushimi's sheathed sword digging into his back. He fell with a startled, "augh!" and Kuroh saw his head hang limp when he fell. It was pitiful, seeing the boy this way, but Kuroh thought of his master, and a few lone tears welled up in his eyes.

'_I will serve you, Master Ichigen, until my dying day. Whatever it is you wish of me will be done without hesitation.'_

He closed his eyes and dipped his head low in acknowledgement.

"That was my promise," he muttered softly to himself, feeling his self assurance surge back into his body. "I will not break it."

He raised his head and stepped forward, filled with newfound determination. This was a task he was given as his one and only master's dying wish, and he was _never _going to fail in it.

"Saruhiko Fushimi of Scepter 4, please stand aside."

Fushimi looked up at him with a startled look of disdain.

"Excuse me?"

Kuroh was unfazed by the daggers in the young man's eyes. He was indeed intimidating to a degree, but after facing the blue king, he seemed like nothing more than a child. Kuroh locked gazes with the blue clansman for a moment, hoping that Fushimi would not be able to see the ever lingering tinge of doubt that stuck in the back of his mind.

"I am going to kill the boy." He clarified, stepping nonchalantly past Fushimi to stand in front of Shiro.

With a sigh and a barely audible click of his tongue, Fushimi stepped away from the two, moving to stand a short distance from them, should he need to intervene. As the blue clansman stood and walked away, Kuroh heard him mutter something about the red vanguard. Disregarding it as unimportant, he quickly drew his sword, and held it downward to the boy kneeling before him.

"Kuroh, you don't have to do this! You're not that cruel, I know so! Kurosuke, _please!_ Don't take Shiro from me!"

His wrist twitched, and the blade he held jerked slightly at the sound of her voice, so desperate and lonely. It made something deep inside him sting. He hardened his resolve and steadied his saber once more, meeting Shiro's sad amber eyes with a steely gaze. The boy then shifted his eyes from Kuroh to the sword.

"You don't have to do this." He murmured softly, as if he was a mother cooing to her young child.

Kuroh felt the tears stinging behind his eyelids, but he forced them away, and let his eyes soften for just a moment before he spoke. He breathed deeply, aiming the sword to the boy's throat.

"I wish that were true."

With no time in between, and with one swift movement, a glaring red gash appeared across the boy's neck, and red splattered across his shining silver-white hair. Neko's voice split into the shocked silence with a bloodcurdling scream that made Kuroh feel as if he would throw up. He stared down at his sword, the polished silver now tainted by an ugly, dark crimson. His stomach twisted with distaste, and he slapped a hand over his mouth, dropping his blade onto the grass and squeezing his eyes shut. He took a few shuddering breaths into his hand, then let it fall to his side, turning away from the sight of the body so as not to traumatize himself further. Neko's screeching rang in his ears endlessly. A fresh wave of guilt rushed through him at the sound, and Kuroh felt as if he would be swept away by it if he looked back. Still, against his better judgment, he slowly turned, just in time to see the blue lieutenant casually release her hold on Neko.

The moment the girl was free from her captor, she sprung forward to kneel at Yashiro's side. Her screams turned to undecipherable streams of words, broken only by an occasional gasp or sob. She had shifted his body so that he kneeled in front of her, leaning into her body with his head rested on her shoulder. Her hands remained in an iron grip on both of his shoulders to steady him, and she had her head leaned against the shoulder opposite of hers. It would have looked heartwarming to him, should Yashiro have been alive, and not bleeding out hideously in the pouring rain, with his companion weeping against his lifeless body. Gathering the last of his courage, he took a step towards the strain girl and the boy, only to be stopped by Neko's paralyzing glare, sent over her shoulder at him. He was frozen in fear of her. He had never seen her overcome with so much pure hatred and rage. Her heterochromic eyes seemed to burn with something akin to the Red Clan's most vicious fires, and her eyes almost looked like they glowed in the darkened stadium.

Deciding against approaching her, he instead retraced his steps and retrieved his sword, sheathing it carelessly without a glance in it's direction, and retreating to the edge of the arena. Staring blankly ahead, he let his thoughts drift off into nothingness. In the corners of his mind, he was still aware of his terribly trembling hands, how his legs felt as if they'd barely hold him, and aware of how his clothes clung to him, wet with rain and sticky with splatters of blood. For a split second, he did not realize the weight of the hand on his shoulder, but he soon fell back to the present and jumped, startled by the surprise entrance. He whipped around, letting go of a breath he didn't even realize he was holding when he saw the familiar figure of Saruhiko Fushimi.

He didn't look at Kuroh now with the same malice as he had just minutes before. Now, his eyes held sympathy and understanding, and maybe, just maybe, Kuroh saw a glimpse of what could have been deeply buried hurt and betrayal. His hand was still extended, in thin air now, where it had been on Kuroh's shoulder. As he dropped his hand to rest on the hilt of the sword at his hip, he cast a glance sideways to where Shiro still lay in Neko's arms.

"Listen, Black Dog, I know what you did wasn't easy." He paused, seeming to focus on something off in the distance. "It feels rough, doesn't it? It takes a lot of courage to hurt the ones you only want to protect…"

Kuroh couldn't speak. He only stood with his mouth hung open, but there were no words that even attempted to escape. He watched as a strange scene seemed to reflect in Fushimi's eyes. The hurt and betrayal flashed in the depths of blue irises once again.

"Fushimi...Saruhiko—"

"This doesn't make us friends," Fushimi cut him off sharply, the softness in his eyes now replaced with an icy stare. "You just reminded me of someone, for a moment. You had that look in your eyes. The one Misaki had…"

Kuroh suddenly remembered the muttering about Misaki Yata, just before Fushimi had stepped away to make room for the bloodshed that had proceeded.

"I see." Kuroh droned, feeling somewhat connected to the more reserved man beside him.

Fushimi pushed himself away from the wall he'd leaned against, and walked a few feet away from Kuroh.

"In any case, I was tasked to inform you that you will not be charged with murder or any other previous charges, and we will not be taking you into custody. You can go free."

He began to walk away without another word, stopping only when Kuroh called out to him.

"What about Neko?"

He looked over his shoulder, briefly casting a glance over at Neko, who's cries of pain had quieted down to small whispers of grief. He then looked back at Kuroh, and with a heavy and somber tone, replied,

"I think she's been punished enough."

Then, without giving Kuroh a chance to respond, he rejoined the rest of his clan, brushing off their questions with a wave of his hand.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Neko laid with Shiro until the rain died down into a light shower. Until she was sure that her trembling was only from the cold. She waited until her body was numb, inside and out. When her sense of emotion had faded, she was only left with one thing.

"Where will I go? Shiro, I can't go home." She whimpered, fresh tears welling up in her eyes when she was met by silence.

She felt lost, abandoned, like someone had just left her on a street corner with no thought to her well being. And where was Kuroh? She looked around slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of her aloof companion. Only when she realized he had left the stadium did a part of her emotions return.

_Kurosuke, that's right, _She realized, horror and shock rippling through her body once more, _of course he'd run away. He's the one who killed Shiro!_

Neko wished she could remain numb forever, but the anger which had long left her came back forcefully, crashing into her body with a vengeance she didn't even know she possessed.

"How could you do that?! You killed him! You killed Shiro!" She screamed, her voice distorting with pure fury until it no longer sounded like her.

Of course, as she was alone, there was no response. No apologies. No atonement for the horrible crime that had been committed. Her skin practically burned with the heat of the anger rushing through her veins. She felt it thrum beneath the skin, boil in her blood. It was as if she had received the powers of the Red Clan, and was unable to control them. She felt the wild flames of her anger bursting from their chains, ready to destroy whatever stood between her and Kuroh. The only thing that stopped her was the presence of another, more unfamiliar aura. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut and taking deep breaths until the fire in her heart had been quenched. She once again basked in the cold embrace of the rain.

"You're the strain girl aren't you? The one who's been hangin' around the Black Dog."

She turned slowly, her body weighed down by tiredness and sorrow. With eyes that were surely dull with dread and numbness, she stared blankly at the newcomer : Izumo Kusanagi of HOMRA. A sudden feeling of motherly protectiveness surged into her body, and she stood defensively in front of the motionless body of her dearest friend, shielding him from the view of the red clansman, and hissing at him quietly.

"Don't even _try _to get close to Shiro. I won't let you touch him." She warned, her voice dark and eyes piercing.

The older man threw his hands up in surrender, but still, Neko refused to move. She was suspicious of him.

_Why show up now? This has nothing to do with the Red Clan._

"Listen little miss, I'm not trying to up and kidnap your friend alright?" He assured her in a composed and cool tone, the edges of his voice betraying his inner pity. "I just came here because our princess tracked you three with her aura, and I wanted to investigate."

Immediately, Neko scanned the area, searching for signs of other people, waiting in apprehension for the surprise attack where they would jump out and drag her away from Shiro, just like the blue lady did. Kusanagi must have noticed, because he nonchalantly added,

"I came alone."

The comment put Neko slightly more at ease, and she finally focused a softer gaze on the red clansman yet again. No words came to mind, so she only stared at him for a moment or two, as if she could find answers in his golden eyes. She only found pity, and a look that, strangely enough, made her pity him as well. This man was hiding something deep inside.

Kusangi, although moving slowly and cautiously, sat beside her. Neko averted her eyes, and fixed her gaze on Shiro's body once more, squeezing her eyes shut against the fresh wave of grief that coursed through her.

"I lost a friend too," Kusangi simply stated, as if the statement was nothing new, "Tatara Totsuka."

A spark of indignance lit inside her chest and she dug her fingernails into the sodden grass underneath her.

"Shiro didn't do it," she grumbled stubbornly, "Shiro is a good boy."

Kusanagi took a moment to reply, contemplating his words carefully. He didn't want to fight with her, after all. He couldn't openly accuse her dearest friend. Not now, at least.

"Guess we'll never know, huh?" He murmured softly, not missing the sharp glance he received in return.

Neither one said another word, even when the rain started up again, and they took shelter together. Neither one said another word when they parted, Yashiro Isana's lifeless body cradled in his loyal friend's loving arms…

No one said another word, when Adolf K. Weissman, the first and silver king, and also previously called upon by the name Yashiro Isana, descended from the sky to appear in Shizume City once again.


End file.
